His stepgrandmother burst out laughing. "God help us all, my lord, but you are surely a true Stuart!" She wondered what this boy would say if he knew that the now-deceased old man who had been his grandfather had once been an unstoppable satyr who had destroyed her first marriage.

"And these are Jemmie's bairns," Jasmine was continuing. "Our eldest, Patrick, then Adam, and Duncan. We had a little lass, but lost her almost two years ago. She caught measles and died a month after my dearest grandmother. She was named for that lady, and for Janet Leslie. Janet Skye."

"I remember my great-grandmother, Janet," Cat told Jasmine. "We called her Mam. She was a very formidable woman."

"As was my grandmother," Jasmine replied.

"Is it true you were once in a harem?" India Lindley suddenly burst out.

Cat turned to look at the girl. She was easily on the brink of womanhood, and every bit as beautiful as her mother with black hair and the most wonderful golden eyes. "Yes," she answered. "I was in the harem of the sultan's grande vizir."

"Which sultan?" India persisted.

"There is only one sultan," Cat said. "The Ottoman."

"Was it exciting or awful?" India's eyes were alight with unbridled curiosity.

"Both," Cat told her.

"India!" Jasmine was mortified by her daughter's outrageous behavior, but then, India was so damned headstrong, and always had been.

"My mother was raised in a harem," India volunteered.

"Was she?" Now it was Cat's turn to be intrigued.

"My father was the Grande Mughal of India," Jasmine explained. "My mother was English. She is married to the earl of BrocCairn."

"I remember your mother," Cat replied. "Velvet is her name. She stayed with us at Hermitage years ago. You don't really look like her, do you?"